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PROPHECY  OF  BANT 


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BY  T     .ID  BYRON. 


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"•'Tis  the  sunset  of  life  gives  ire  my"?'Jcal  lore, 
And  coniing events  cast  their  shadows  before." 

C  <'tPBS'J. 


PHII.4DEXPHIA  : 

M.  CAREY  AND  30NS,  CUESNUT  STREET 
,\         1831. 

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THE 

PROPHECY  OF  DANTE, 


THE 


PROPHECY  OF  DANTE. 


BY  LORD  BYRON. 


(t,Tis  the  sunset  of  life  gives  me  mystical  lore, 
"  And  coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before." 

Campbell 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

M,  CAREY  AND  SONS,  CHESNUT  STREET, 

1821. 


T      O 

DEDICATION.         $?* 


LADY !  if  for  the  cold  and  cloudy  clime 

Where  1  was  born,  but  where  I  would  not  die, 
Of  the  great  Poet-Sire  of  Italy 

I  dare  to.  build  the  imitative  rhyme, 

Harsh  Runic  copy  of  the  South's  sublime, 
Thou  art  the  cause ;  and  howsoever  I 
Fall  short  of  his  immortal  harmony, 

Thy  gentle  heart  will  pardon  me  the  crime. 
Thou,  in  the  pride  of  Beauty  and  of  Youth, 
Spak'st ;  and  for  thee  to  speak  and  be  obey'd 

Are  one  ;  but  only  in  the  sunny  South 

Such  sounds  are  utter'd,  and  such  charms  dis- 
play'd, 

So  sweet  a  language  from  so  fair  a  mouth—. 
Ah !  to  what  effort  would  it  not  persuade  ? 


Ravenna,  June  21,  1819. 


1* 


PREFACE, 


In  the  course  of  a  visit  to  the  city  of  Ravenna 
in  the  summer  of  1819,  it  was  suggested  to  the 
author  that  having  composed  something  on  the 
subject  of  Tasso's  confinement,  he  should  do  the 
same  on  Dante's  exile—the  tomb  of  the  poet 
forming  one  of  the  principal  objects  of  interest 
in  that  city,  both  to  the  native  arid  to  the  stran- 
ger. 

«  On  this  hint  I  spake,'*  and  the  result  has 
been  the  following  four  cantos,  in  terza  rima, 
now  offered  to  the  reader.  If  they  are  under- 
stood and  approved,  it  is  my  purpose  to  conti- 
nue the  poem  in  various  other  cantos  to  its  na- 
tural conclusion  in  the  present  age.  The  reader 
is  requested  to  suppose  that  Dante  addresses 
him  in  the  interval  between  the  conclusion  of 
the  Divina  Commedia  and  his  death,  and  short- 
ly before  the  latter  event,  foretelling  the  for- 


8  PREFACE. 

tunes  of  Italy  in  general  in  the  ensuing  centu- 
ries. In  adopting  this  plan  I  have  had  in  my 
mind  the  Cassandra  of  Lycophron,  and  the  Pro- 
phecy of  Nereus  by  Horace,  as  well  as  the  Pro- 
phecies of  Holy  Writ.  The  measure  adopted 
is  the  terza  rima  of  Dante,  which  I  am  not 
aware  to  have  seen  hitherto  tried  in  our  lan- 
guage, except  it  may  be  by  Mr.  Hayley,  of 
whose  translation  I  never  saw  but  one  extract, 
quoted  in  the  notes  to  Caliph  Vathek ;  so  that 
— if  I  do  not  err — this  poem  may  be  considered 
as  a  metrical  experiment.  The  cantos  are  short, 
and  about  the  same  length  of  those  of  the  poet 
whose  name  I  have  borrowed,  and  most  proba- 
bly  taken  in  vain. 

Amongst  the  inconveniences  of  authors  in  the 
present  day,  it  is  difficult  for  any  who  have  a 
name,  good  or  bad,  to  escape  translation.  I 
have  had  the  fortune  to  see  the  fourth  canto  of 
Childe  Harold  translated  into  Italian  versi  sci- 
olti — that  is,  a  poem  written  in  the  Spenserean 
stanza  into  blank  verse,  without  regard  to  the 
natural  divisions  of  the  stanza,  or  of  the  sense. 
If  the  present  poem,  being  on  a  national  topic, 


PREFACE. 


should  chance  to  undergo  the  same  fate,  I  would 
request  the  Italian  reader  to  remember  that 
when  I  have  failed  in  the  imitation  of  his  great 
"  Padre  Alighier,"  I  have  failed  in  imitating 
that  which  all  study  and  few  understand,  since 
to  this  very  day  it  is  not  yet  settled  what  was 
the  meaning  of  the  allegory  in  the  first  canto  of 
the  Inferno,  unless  Count  Marchetti's  ingenious 
and  probable  conjecture  may  be  considered  as 
having  decided  the  question. 

He  may  also  pardon  my  failure  the  more,  as 
I  am  not  quite  sure  that  he  would  he  pleased 
with  my  success,  since  the  Italians,  with  a  par- 
donable nationality,  are  particularly  jealous  of 
all  that  is  left  them  as  a  nation— their  litera- 
ture -,  and  in  the  present  bitterness  of  the  clas- 
sic and  romantic  war,  are  but  ill  disposed  to 
permit  a  foreigner  even  to  approve  or  imitate 
them  without  finding  some  fault  with  his  ultra- 
montane presumption.  I  can  easily  enter  into 
all  this,  knowing  what  would  be  thought  in 
England  of  an  Italian  imitator  of  Milton,  or  if 
a  translation  of  Monti,  or  Pindemonte,  or  Arici, 
should  be  held  up  to  the  rising  generation  as  a 


10  .PREFACE. 

model  for  their  future  poetical  essays.  But  I 
perceive  that  I  am  deviating  into  an  address  to 
the  Italian  reader,  when  my  business  is  with 
the  English  one,  and  be  they  few  or  many,  I 
must  take  my  leave  of  both. 


THfc 

PROPHECY  OF  DANTE. 

CANTO  I. 

ONCE  more  in  man's  frail  world  !  which  I  had  left 
So  long  that  'twas  forgotten ;  and  I  feel 
The  weight  of  clay  again,— too  soon  bereft 

Of  the  immortal  vision  which  could  heal 
My  earthly  sorrows,  and  to  God's  Own  skies 
Lift  me  from  that  deep  gulf  without  repeal, 

Where  late  my  ears  rung  with  the  damned  cries 
Of  souls  in  hopeless  bale ;  and  from  that  place 
Of  lesser  torment,  whence  men  may  arise 

Pure  from  the  fire  to  join  the  angelic  race;  10 
Midst  whom  my  own  bright  Beatrice  bless'd  (1) 
My  spirit  with  her  light ;  and  to  the  base 

Of  the  Eternal  Triad  !  first,  last,  best, 

Mysterious,  three,  sole,  infinite,  great  God  ! 
Soul  universal !  led  the  mortal  guest, 

Unblasted  by  the  glory,  though  he  trod 

From  star  to  star  to  reach  the  almighty  throne. 
Oh  Beatrice  !  whose  sweet  limbs  the  sod 


12  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Canto  1. 

So  long  hath  prest,  and  the  cold  marble  stone, 
Thou  sole  pure  seraph  of  my  earliest  love,      20 
Love  so  ineffable,  and-  so  alone, 

That  nought  on  earth  could  more  my  bosom  move, 


And  meeting  thee  in  heaven  was  but  to  meet 


That  without  which  my  soul,  like  the  arkless 
dove, 
Had  wander'd  still  in  search  of,  nor  her  feet 
Relieved  her  wing  till  found  ;  without  thy  light 
My  Paradise  had  still  been  incomplete.  (2) 
Since  my  tenth  sun  gave  summer  to  my  sight 
Thou  wert  my  life,  the  essence  of  my  thought, 
Loved  ere  I  knew  the  name  of  love,  and  bright  30 
Still  in  these  dim  old  eyes,  now  overwrought 
With  the  world's  war,  and  years,  and  banishment 
And  tears  for  thee,  by  other  woes  untaught; 
For  mine  is  not  a  nature  to  be  bent 

By  tyrannous  faction^  and  the  brawling  crowd 
And  though  the  long,  long  conflict  hath  been  spent 
In  vain,  and  never  more,  save  when  the  cloud 
Which  overhangs  the  Apennine,  my  mind's  eye 
Pierces  to  fancy  Florence,  once  so  proud 
Of  me,  can  I  return,  though  but  to  die,  40 

Unto  my  native  soil,  they  have  not  yet 
Quench'd  the  old  exile's  spirit,  stern  and  high. 
But  the  sun,  though  not  overcast,  must  set, 
And  the  night  cometh;  I  ara  old  in  days, 


Canto  1.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  13 

And  deeds,  and  contemplation,  and  have  met 

Destruction  face  to  face  in  all  his  ways. 

The  world  hath  left  me,  what  it  found  me,  pure, 
And  if  I  have  not  gather'd  yet  its  praise, 

I  sought  it  not  by  any  baser  lure  ;  \ 

P     Man  wrongs,  and  Time  avenges,  and  my  name 
May  form  a  monument  not  all  obscure,  51 

Though  such  was  not  my  ambition's  end  or  aim, 
To  add  to  the  vain-glorious  list  of  those 
"Who  dabble  in  the  pettiness  of  fame, 

And  make  men's  fickle  breath  the  wind  that  blows 
Their  sail,  and  deem  it  glory  to  be  class'd 
With  conquerors,  and  virtue's  other  foes, 

In  bloody  chronicles  of  ages  past. 

I  would  have  had  my  Florence  great  and  free :  (3) 
Oh  Florence!  Florence!  unto  me  thou  wast      60 

Like  that  Jerusalem  which  the  Almighty  He 
Wept  over,  "  but  thou  wouldst  not;"  as  the  bird 
Gathers  its  young,  I  would  have  gather'd  thee 

Beneath  a  parent  pinion,  hadst  thou  heard 
My  voice;  but  as  the  adder,  deaf  and  fierce, 
Against  the  breast  that  cherish'd  thee  was  stirr'd 

Thy  venom,  and  my  state  thou  didst  amerce, 
And  doom  this  body  forfeit  to  the  fire. 
Alas  !  how  bitter  is  his  country's  curse 

To  him  who  for  that  country  would  expire,        70 
But  did  not  merit  to  expire  by  her, 
2 


-I 


u  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  Canto  1. 

And  loves  her,  loves  her  even  in  her  ire. 
The  day  may  come  when  she  will  cease  to  err, 
The  day  may  come  she  would  be  proud  to  have 
The  dust  she  dooms  to  scatter,  and  transfer  (4) 
Of  him,  whom  she  denied  a  home,  the  grave. 
But  this  shall  not  be  granted  ;  let  my  dust 
Lie  where  it  falls  5  nor  shall  the  soil  which  gave 
Me  breath,  but  in  her  sudden  fury  thrust 

Me  forth  to  breathe  elsewhere,  so  reassume     80 
My  indignant  bones,  because  her  angry  gust 
Forsooth  is  over,  and  repeal'd  her  doom  ; 

No, she  denied  me  what  wa^mine — my  roof, 

-    And  shall  not  have  what  is  not  hers—my  tomb. 
Too  long  her  armed  wrath  hath  kept  aloof 

The  breast  which  would  have  bled  for  her,  the 

heart 
That  beat,  the  mind  that  was  temptation  proof, 
The  man  who  fought,  toi I'd,  travell'd,  and  each  part 
Of  a  true  citizen  fulfill'd,  and  saw 
For  his  reward  the  Guelf's  ascendant  art         90 
Pass  his  destruction  even  into  a  law. 

These  things  are  not  made  for  forgetful ness, 
Florence  shall  be  forgotten  first ;  too  raw 
The  wound,  too  deep  the  wrong,  and  the  distress 
Of  such  endurance  too  prolong'd  to  make 
My  pardon  greater,  her  injustice  less, 
Though  late  repented  5  yet— yet  for  her  sake 


Casto  1.  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  IS 

I  feel  some  fonder  yearnings,  and  for  thine, 
My  own  Beatrice,  I  would  hardly  take 

Vengeance  upon  the  land  which  once  was  mine, 
And  still  is  hallow'd  by  thy  dust's  return,     101 
Which   would    protect   the    murderess    like   a 
shrine, 

And  save  ten  thousand  foes  by  thy  sole  urn. 
Though,  like  old  Marius  from  Minturnse's  marsh 
And  Carthage  ruins,  my  lone  breast  may  burn 

At  times  with  evil  feelings  hot  and  harsh, 
And  sometimes  the  last  pangs  of  a  vile  foe 
Writhe  in  a  dream  before  me,  and  o'erarch 

My  brow  with  hopes  of  triumph, — let  them  go  ! 
Such  are  the  last  infirmities  of  those  110 

Who  long  have  suffer'd  more  than  mortal  woe, 

And  yet  being  mortal  still,  have  no  repose 
But  on  the  pillow  of  Revenge — Revenge, 
Who  sleeps  to  dream  of  blood,  and  waking 
glows 

With  the  oft-baffled,  slakeless  thirst  of  change, 
When  we  shall  mount  again,  and  they  that  trod 
Be  trampled  on,  while  Death  and  Ate  range 

O'er  humbled  heads  and  sever'd  necks         Great 
God! 
Take  these  thoughts  from  me—to  thy  hands  I 

yield 
My  many  wrongs,  and  thine  almighty  rod      120 


16  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Canto  1. 

Will  fall  on  those  who  smote  me, — be  my  shield ! 
As  thou  hast  been  in  peril,  and  in  pain, 
In  turbulent  cities,  and  the  tented  field- 
In  toil,  and  many  troubles  borne  in  vain 
For  Florence. — -I  appeal  from  her  to  Thee  ! 
Thee,  whom  I  late  saw  in  thy  loftiest  reign, 

Even  in  that  glorious  vision,  which  to  see 
And  live  was  never  granted  until  now, 
And  yet  thou  hast  permitted  this  to  me. 

Alas  !  with  what  a  weight  upon  my  brow  ISO 

The  sense  of  earth  and  earthly  things  come  back, 
Corrosive  passions,  feelings  dull  and  low, 

The  heart's  quick  throb  upon  the  mental  rack, 
Long  day,  and  dreary  night;  the  retrospect 
Of  half  a  century  bloody  and  black, 

And  the  frail  few  years  I  may  yet  expect 
Hoary  and  hopeless,  but  less  hard  to  bear, 
For  I  have  been  too  long  and  deeply  wreck'd 

On  the  lone  rock  of  desolate  Despair 

To  lift  my  eyes  more  to  the  passing  sail         140 
Which  shuns  that  reef  so  horrible  and  bare; 

Nor  raise  my  voice — for  who  would  heed  my  wail  ? 
I  am  not  of  this  people,  nor  this  age, 
And  yet  my  harpings  will  unfold  a  tale 

Which  shall  preserve  these  times  when  not  a  page 
Of  their  perturbed  annals  could  attract 
•An  eye  to  gaze  upon  their  civil  rage 


Canto  1.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  IT 

Did  not  my  verse  embalm  full  many  an  act 

Worthless  as  they  who  wrought  it:  'tis  the  doom 
Of  spirits  of  my  order  to  be  rack'd  150 

In  life,  to  wear  their  hearts  out,  and  consume 
Their  days  in  endless  strife,  and  die  alone ; 
Then  future  thousands  crowd  around  their  tomb, 

And  pilgrims  come  from  climes  where  they  have 
known 
The  name  of  him — who  now  is  but  a  name, 
And  wasting  homage  o'er  the  sullen  stone, 

Spread  his — by  him  unheard,  unheeded — fame ; 
And  mine  at  least  hath  cost  me  dear :  to  die 
Is  nothing  ;  but  to  wither  thus — to  tame 

My  mind  down  from  its  own  infinity —  160 

To  live  in  narrow  ways  with  little  men, 
A  common  sight  to  every  common  eye, 
_A  wanderer,  while  even  wolves  can  find  a  den, 
Ripp'd  from  all  kindred,  from  all  home,  all  things 
That  make  communion  sweet,  and  soften  pain- 
To  feel  me  in  the  solitude  of  kings 

Without  the   power  that  makes  them  bear  a 

crown- 
To  envy  every  dove  his  nest  and  wings 

Which  waft  him  where  the  Apennine  looks  down 
On  Arno,  till  he  perches,  it  may  be,  170 

Within  my  all  inexorable  town, 

Where  yet  my  boys  are,  and  that  fatal  she,  (5) 


18  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  Cawto  1. 

Thejr  mother,  the  cold  partner  who  hath  brought 
Destruction  for  a  dowry— this  to  see 
And  feel,  and  know  without  repair,  hath  taught 
A  bitter  lesson ;  but  it  leaves  me  free : 
I  have  not  vilely  found,  nor  basely  sought^ 
.....    They  made  an  Exile— not  a  slave  of  me. 


THE 

PROPHECY  OF  DANTE. 


CANTO  II. 

/The  Spirit  of  the  fervent  days  of  Old, 

When  words  were  things  that  came  to  pass,  and 

thought 
Flashed  o'er  the  future,  bidding  men  behold 

Their  children's  children's  doom  already  brought 
Forth  from  the  abyss  of  time  which  is  to  be, 
The  chaos  of  events,  where  lie  half-wrought 

Shapes  that  must  undergo  mortality  ; 

What  the  great  Seers  of  Israel  wore  within, 
That  spirit  was  on  them,  and  is  on  me, 

And  if,  Cassandra-like,  amidst  the  din  10 

Of  conflict  none  will  hear,  or  hearing  heed 
This  voice  from  out  the  Wilderness,  the  sin 

Be  theirs,  and  my  own  feelings  be  my  meed, 
The  only  guerdon  I  have  ever  known. 
Hast  thou  not  bled  ?  and  hast  thou  still  to  bleed, 

Italia  ?  Ah  !  to  me  such  things,  foreshown 
With  dim  sepulchral  light,  bid  me  forget 


20  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Casto  : 

In  thine  irreparable  wrongs  my  own ; 
"We  can  have  but  one  country,  and  even  yet 

Thou'rt  mine — my  bones  shall  be  within  thy 
breast,  20 

My  soul  within  thy  language,  which  once  set 
With  our  old  Roman  sway  in  the  wide  West  j 

But  I  will  make  another  tongue  arise 

As  lofty  and  more  sweet,  in  which  exprest 
The  hero's  ardour,  or  the  lover's  sighs, 

Shall  find  alike  such  sounds  for  every  theme 

That  every  word,  as  brilliant  as  thy  skies, 
Shall  realize  a  poet's  proudest  dream, 

And  make  thee  Europe's  nightingale  of  song  ; 

So  that  all  present  speech  to  thine  shall  seem 
The  note  of  meaner  birds,  and  every  tongue       SI 

Confess  its  barbarism  when  compared  with  thine. 

This  shalt  thou  owe  to  him  thou  didst  so  wrong, 
Thy  Tuscan  Bard,  the  banish 'd  Ghibelline. 

Woe  !  woe !  the  veil  of  coming  centuries 

Is  rent, — a  thousand  years  which  yet  supine 
Lie  like  the  ocean  waves  ere  winds  arise, 

Heaving  in  dark  and  sullen  undulation, 

Float  from  eternity  into  these  eyes  ; 

The  storms  yet  sleep,  the  clouds  still  keep  then 

station,  40 

The  unborn  earthquake  yet  is  in  the  womb. 

The  bloody  chaos  yet  expects  creation, 


Canto  2.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  21 

But  all  things  are  disposing  for  thy  doom  j 
The  elements  await  but  for  the  word, 
"  Let  there  be  darkness !"  and  thou  grow'st  a 
tomb ! 

Yes  !  thou,  so  beautiful,  shalt  feel  the  sword, 
Thou,  Italy  !  so  fair  that  Paradise, 
Revived  in  thee,  blooms  forth  to  man  restored: 

Ah !  must  the  sons  of  Adam  lose  it  twice  ? 

Thou,  Italy !  whose  ever  golden  fields,  50 

Plough'd  by  the  sunbeams  solely,  would  suffice 

For  the  world's  granary ;  thou,  whose  sky  heaven 
gilds 
With  brighter  stars,  and  robes  with  deeper  blue ; 
Thou,  in  whose  pleasant  places  Summer  builds 

Her  palace,  in  whose  cradle  Empire  grew, 
And  form'd  the  Eternal  City's  ornaments 
From  spoils  of  kings  whom  freemen  overthrew  ; 

Birthplace  of  heroes,  sanctuary  of  saints, 

Where  earthly  first,  then  heavenly  glory  made 
Her  home;  thou,  all  which  fondest  fancy  paints, 

And  finds  her  prior  vision  but  portray'd  61 

In  feeble  colours,  when  the  eye — from  the  Alp 
Of  horrid  snow,  and  rock,  and  shaggy  shade 

Of  desert-loving  pine,  whose  emerald  scalp 

Nods  to  the  storm — dilates  and  dotes  o'er  thee, 
And  wistfully  implores,  as  'twere,  for  help 

To  see  thy  sunny  fields,  my  Italy, 


32  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  Canto  % 

Nearer  and  nearer  yet,  and  dearer  still 
The  more  approach'd,  and  dearest  were  they 
free, 

Thou — Thou  must  wither  to  each  tyrant's  will :  70 
The  Goth  hath  been,— the  German,  Frank,  and 

Hun 
Are  yet  to  come, — and  on  the  imperial  hill, 

Ruin,  already  proud  of  the  deeds  done 

By  the  old  barbarians,  there  awaits  the  new, 
Throned  on  the  Palatine,  while  lost  and  won 

Rome  at  her  feet  lies  bleeding,  and  the  hue 
Of  human  sacrifice  and  Roman  slaughter 
Troubles  the  clotted  air,  of  late  so  blue, 

And  deepens  into  red  the  saffron  water  79 

Of  Tiber,  thick  with  dead  ;  the  helpless  priest, 
And  still  more  helpless  nor  less  holy  daughter, 

Vow'd  to  their  God,  have  shrieking  fled,  and  ceased 
Their  ministry :  the  nations  take  their  prey, 
Iberian,  Almain,  Lombard,  and  the  beast 

And  bird,  wolf,  vulture,  more  humane  than  they 
Are  ;  these  but  gorge  the  flesh  and  lap  the  gore 
Of  the  departed,  and  then  go  their  way; 

But  those,  the  human  savages,  explore 
All  paths  of  torture,  and  insatiate  yet, 
With  Ugolino  hunger  prowl  for  more.  90 

Nine  moons  shall  rise  o'er  scenes  like  this  and 
set:  (6) 


Casto  2.  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  23 

The  chiefless  army  of  the  dead,  which  late 
Beneath  the  traitor  Prince's  banner  met, 

Hath  left  its  leader's  ashes  at  the  gate ; 
Had  but  the  royal  Rebel  lived,  perchance 
Thou  hadst  been  spared,  but  his  involved  thy 

fate. 
Oh !  Rome,  the  spoiler  or  the  spoil  of  France, 
From  Brennus  to  the  Bourbon,  never,  never 
Shall  foreign  standard  to  thy  walls  advance 

But  Tiber  shall  become  a  mournful  river.  100 

Oh  !  when  the  strangers  pass  the  Alps  and  Po, 
Crush  them,  ye  rocks  !  floods,  whelm  them,  and 
for  ever! 

Why  sleep  the  idle  avalanches  so, 

To  topple  on  the  lonely  pilgrim's  head  ? 
Why  doth  Eridanus  but  overflow 

The  peasant's  harvest  from  his  turbid  bed  ? 
Were  not  each  barbarous  horde  a  nobler  prey  ? 
Over  Cambyses'  host  the  desert  spread 

Her  sandy  ocean,  and  the  sea  waves'  sway 
Roll'd  over  Pharaoh  and  his  thousands, — why, 
Mountains  and  waters,  do  ye  not  as  they  ?     til 

And  you,  ye  men !  Romans,  who  dare  not  die, 
Sons  of  the  conquerors  who  overthrew 
Those  who  overthrew  proud  Xerxes,  where  yet  lie 

The  dead  whose  tomb  Oblivion  never  knew, 
Are  the  Alps  weaker  than  Thermopylee  ? 


24  PROPHECY  OF  DAN^E.  Cahto  2. 

Their  passes  more  alluring  to  the  view 

Of  an  invader?  is  it  they,  or  ye, 

That  to  each  host  the  mountain -gate  unbar, 
And  leave  the  march  in  peace,  the  passage  free  ? 

Why,  Nature's  self  detains  the  victor's  car       121 
And  makes  your  land  impregnable,  if  earth 
Could  be  so;  but  alone  she  will  Dot  war, 

Yet  aids  the  warrior  worthy  of  his  birth 
In  a  soil  where  the  mothers  bring  forth  men  i 
Not  so  with  those  whose  souls  are  little  worth  3 

For  them  no  fortress  can  avail, — the  den 
Of  the  poor  reptile  which  preserves  its  sting 
Is  more  secure  than  walls  of  adamant,  when 

The  hearts  of  those  within  are  quivering.  130 

Are  ye  not  brave?  Yes,  yet  the  Ausonian  soil 
Hath  hearts,  and  hands,  and  arms,  and  hosts  to 
bring 

Against  Oppression  ;  but  how  vain  the  toil, 
While  still  Division  sows  the  seeds  of  woe 
And  weakness,  till  the  stranger  reaps  the  spoil. 

Oh  !  my  own  beauteous  land  !  so  long  laid  low, 
So  long  the  grave  of  thy  own  children's  hopes, 
When  there  is  but  required  a  single  blow  ' 

To  break  the  chain,  yet — yet  the  Avenger  stops, 
And  Doubt  and  Discord  step  'twixt  thine  and 
thee,  140 


Cahto  2.  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  25 

And  join  their  strength  to  that  which  with  thee 
copes ; 
What  is  there  wanting  then  to  set  thee  free, 

And  show  thy  beauty  in  its  fullest  light  ? 

To  make  the  Alps  impassable ;  and  we, 
Her  sons,  may  do  this  with  one  deed Unite ! 


THE 

PROPHECY  OF  DANTE. 

CANTO  III. 

From  out  the  mass  of  never  dying  ill, 
The  Plague,  the  Prince,  the  Stranger,  and  the 

Sword, 
Vials  of  wrath  but  emptied  to  refill 
And  flow  again,  I  cannot  all  record 

That  crowds  on  my  prophetic  eye:  the  earth 
And  ocean  written  o'e r  would  not  afford 
Space  for  the  annal,  yet  it  shall  go  forth; 

Yes,  all,  though  not  by  human  pen,  is  graven, 
There  where  the  farthest 'suns  and  stars  have 
birth. 
Spread  like  a  banner  at  the  erate  of  heaven,        10. 
The  bloody  scroll  of  our  millennial  wrongs 
Waves,  and  the  echo  of  our  groans  is  driven 
Athwart  the  sound  of  archangelic  songs, 
And  Italy,  the  martyr'd  nation's  gore, 
Will  not  in  vain  arise  to  where  belongs 
Omnipotence  and  mercy  evermore  : 


28  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Canto  3. 

Like  to  a  harpstring  stricken  by  the  wind, 
The  sound  of  her  lament  shall,  rising  o'er 
The  seraph  voices,  touch  the  Almighty  Mind. 
Meantime  I,  humblest  of  thy  sons,  and  of       20 
Earth's  dust  by  immortality  refined 
To  sense  and  suffering,  though  the  vain  may  scoff, 
And  tyrants  threat,  and  meeker  victims  bow 
Before  the  storm  because  its  breath  is  rough, 
To  thee,  my  country !  whom  before,  as  now, 
I  loved  and  love,  devote  the  mournful  lyre 
And  melancholy  gift  high  powers  allow 
To  read  the  future;  and  if  now  my  fire 
Is  not  as  once  it  shone  o'er  thee,  forgive! 
I  but  foretell  thy  fortunes— then  expire;         SO 
Think  not  that  I  would  look  on  them  and  live. 
A  spirit  forces  me  to  see  and  speak, 
And  for  my  guerdon  grants  not  to  survive ; 
My  heart  shall  be  pour'd  over  thee  and  break: 
Yet  for  a  moment,  1ere  I  must  resume 
Thy  sable  web  of  sorrow,  let  me  take 
Over  the  gleams  that  flash  athwart  thy  gloom 
A  softer  glimpse;  some  stars  shine  through  thy 

night, 
And  many  meteors,  and  above  thy  tomb 
Leans  sculptured   Beauty,  which  Death  cannot 
blight ;  40 

And  from  thine  ashes  boundless  spirits  rise 


Cak^o  3.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  2*. 

To  o-ive  thee  honour,  and  the  earth  delight; 
Thy  soil  shall  still  he  pregnant  with  the  wise, 
The  gay,  the  learn'd,   the  generous,   and  the 

brave, 
Native  to  thee  as  summer  to  thy  skies, 
Conquerors  on  foreign  shores,  and  the  far  wave,  (7) 
Discoverers  of  new   worlds,  which  take  their 

name ;  (8) 
For  thee  alone  they  have  no  arm  to  save, 
And  all  thy  recompense  is  in  their  fame, 

A  noble  one  to  them,  but  not  to  thee —  50 

Shall  they  be  glorious,  and  thou  still  the  same? 
Oh  !  more  than  these  illustrious  far  shall  be 
The  being — and  even  yet  he  may  be  born— 
The  mortal  saviour  who  shall  set  thee  free, 
And  see  thy  diadem,  so  changed  and  worn 
By  fresh  barbarians,  on  thy  brow  replaced  ; 
And  the  sweet  sun  replenishing  thy  morn, 
Thy  moral  morn,  too  long  with  clouds  defaced 
And  noxious  vapours  from  Avernus  risen, 
Such  as  all  they  must  breathe  who  are  debased 
By  servitude,  and  have  the  mind  in  prison.         61 
Yet  through  this  centuried  eclipse  of  woe 
Some  voices  shall   be   heard,   and  earth  shall 
listen ; 
Poets  shall  follow  in  the  path  I  show, 

And  make  it  broader ;  the  same  brilliant  sky 
3* 


30  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Canto  3. 

Which  cheers  the  birds  to  song  shall  bid  them 
glow, 

And  raise  their  notes  as  natural  and  high ; 

Tuneful  shall  be  their  numbers :  they  shall  sing 
Many  of  love,  and  some  of  liberty, 

But  few  shall  soar  upon  that  eagle's  wing,  70 

And  look  in  the  sun's  face  with  eagle's  gaze 
All  free  and  fearless  as  the  feather'd  king, 

But  fly  more  near  the  earth  j  how  many  a  phrase 
Sublime  shall  lavishM  be  on  some  small  prince 
In  all  the  prodigality  of  praise  ! 

And  language,  eloquently  false,  evince 
The  harlotry  of  genius,  which,  like  beauty, 
Too  oft  forgets  its  own  self-reverence, 

And  looks  on  prostitution  as  a  duty.  , 

(9)  He  who  once  enters  in  a  tyrant's  hail    '  80 
As  guest  is  slave,  his  thoughts  become  a  booty, 

And  the  first  day  which  sees  the  chain  enthral 
A  captive,  sees  his  half  of  manhood  gone—  (10) 
The  soul's  emasculation  saddens  all 

Plis  spirit;  thus  the  Bard  too  near  the  throne 
Quails  from  his  inspiration,  bound  to  please,—* 

•   How  servile  is  the  task  to  please  alone  ! 

To  smooth  the  verse  to  suit  his  sovereign's  ease 
And  royal  leisure,  nor  too  much  prolong 
Aught  save  his  eulogy,  and  find,  and  seize,    90 

Or  force,  or  forge  fit  argument  of  song ! 


Canto  3.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  31 

Thus  trammell'd,  thus  condemn'd  to  Flattery's 

trebles, 
He  toils  through  all,  still  trembling  to  be  wrong : 
For  fear  some  noble  thoughts,  like  heavenly  rebels, 
Should  rise  up  in  high  treason  to  his  brain, 
He  sings,  as  the  Athenian  spoke,  with  pebbles 
In  's  mouth,  lest  truth  should  stammer  through  his 
strain. 
But  out  of  the  long  file  of  sonneteers 
There  shall  be  some  who  will  not  sing  in  vain, 
And  he,  their  prince,  shall  rank  among  my 

peers,  (11)  10° 

And. love  shall  be  his  torment;  but  his  grief 
Shall  make  an  immortality  of  tears, 
And  Italy  shall  hail  him  as  the  Chief 
Of  Poet-lovers,  and  his  higher  song 
Of  Freedom  wreathe  him  with  as  green  a  leaf* 
But  in  a  farther  age  shall  rise  along 

The  banks  of  Po,  two  greater  still  than  he; 
The  world  which  smiled  on  him  shall  do  them 
wrong 
Till  they  are  ashes,  and  repose  with  me. 

The  first  will  make  an  epoch  with  his  lyre,  110 
And  fill  the  earth  with  feats  of  chivalry : 
His  fancy  like  a  rainbow,  and  his  fire, 

Like  that  of  heaven,  immortal,  and  his  thought 
Borne  onward  with  a  wing  that  cannot  tire ; 


32  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Casto  S. 

Pleasure  shall,  like  a  butterfly  new  caught, 

Flutter  her  lovely  pinions  o'er  his  theme, 

And  Art  itself  seem  into  Nature  wrought' 
By  the  transparency  of  his  bright  dream 

The  second,  of  a  tenderer,  sadder  mood,     " 

Shall  pour  his  soul  out  o'er  Jerusalem  ;  120 

He,  too,  shall  sing  of  arms,  and  Christian  blood 

Shed  where  Christ  bled  for  man ;  and  his  high 
harp 

Shall,  by  the  willow  over  Jordan's  flood, 
Revive  a  song  of  Sion,  and  the  sharp 

Conflict,  and  final  triumph  of  the  brave 

And  pious,  and  the  strife  of  hell  to  warp 
Their  hearts  from  their  great  purpose,  until  wave 

The  red-cross  banners  where  the  first  red  Cross 

Was  crimson'd  from  his  veins  who  died  to  save, 
Shall  be  his  sacred  argument;  the  loss  130 

Of  years,  of  favour,  freedom,  even  of  fame 

Contested  for  a  time,  while  the  smooth  gloss 
Of  courts  would  slide  o'er  his  forgotten  name, 

And  call  captivity  a  kindness,  meant  . 

To  shield  him  from  insanity  or  shame, 
Such  shall  be  his  meet  guerdon!  who  was  sent 

To  be  Christ's  Laureate — they  reward  him  well ! 

Florence  dooms  me  but  death  or  banishment, 
Ferrara  him  a  pittance  and  a  cell, 

Harder  to  bear  and  less  deserved,  for  I  140 


Canto  3.  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  33 

Had  stung  the  factions  which  I  strove  to  quell ; 
But  this  meek  man,  who  with  a  lover's  eye 

Will  look  on  earth  and  heaven,  and  who  will 
deign 

To  embalm  with  his  celestial  flattery 
As  poor  a  thing  as  e'er  was  spawn'd  to  reign, 

What  will  he  do  to  merit  such  a  doom  ? 

Perhaps  he'll  love, — and  is  not  tove  in  vain 
Torture  enough  without  a  living  tomb  ? 

Yet  it  will  be  so — he  and  his  compeer, 

The  Bard  of  Chivalry,  will  both  consume      150 
In  penury  and  pain  too  many  a  year, 

And,  dying  in  despondency,  bequeath 

To  the  kind  world,  which  scarce  will  yield  a 
tear, 
A  hermitage  enriching  all  who  breathe 

With  the  wealth  of  a  genuine  poet's  soul, 

And  to  their  country  a  redoubled  wreath, 
Unmatch'd  by  time ;  not  Hellas  can  unroll 

Through  her  olympiads  two  such  names,  though 
one 

Of  hers  be  mighty;— and  is  this  the  whole 
Of  such  men's  destiny  beneath  the  sun  ?  160 

Must  all  the  finer  thoughts,  the  thrilling  sense, 

The  electric  blood  with  which  their  arteries  run, 
Their  body's  self  turn'd  soul  with  the  intense 

Feeling  of  that  which  is,  and  fancy  of 


34,  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Casto  S. 

That  which  should  be,  to  such  a  recompense 
Conduct  ?  shall  their  bright  plumage  on  the  rough 

Storm  be  still  scattered  P    Yes,  and  it  must  be, 

For,  form'd  of  far  too  penetrable  stuff, 
These  birds  of  Paradise  but  long  to  flee 

Back  to  their  native  mansion,  soon  they  find  170 

Earth's  mist  with  their  pure  pinions  not  agree, 
And  die  or  are  degraded,  for  the  mind    N. 

Succumbs  to  long  infection,  and  despair,  \ 

And  vulture  passions  flying  close  behind,  / 
Await  the  moment  to  assail  and  tear  ; 

And  when  at  length  the  winged  wanderers  stoop, 

Then  is  the  prey -bird's  triumph,  then  they  share 
The  spoil,  o'erpower'd  at  length  by  one  fell  swoop. 

Yet  some  have  been  untouch'd,  who  learn'd  to 
bear, 

Some  whom  no  power  could  ever  force  to  droop, 
Who  could  resist  themselves  even,  hardest  care! 

And  task  most  hopeless;  but  some  such  have 
been,  182 

And  if  my  name  amongst  the  number  were, 
That  destiny  austere,  and  yet  serene, 

"Were  prouder  than  more  dazzling  fame  unblest ; 

The  Alp's  snow  summit  nearer  heaven  is  seen 
Than  the  volcano's  fierce  eruptive  crest, 

Whose  splendour  from  the  black  abyss  is  flung, 


Cakto  3.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  35 

While  the  scorch'd  mountain,  from  whose  burn- 
ing breast 

A  temporary  torturing  flame  is  wrung,  190 

Shines  for  a  night  of  terror,  then  repels 
Its  fire  back  to  the  hell  from  whence  it  sprung, 

The  hell  which  in  its  entrails  ever  dwells. 


PROPHECY  OF  DANTE. 

CANTO  IV. 

Many  are  poets  who  have  never  penn'd 
Their  inspiration,  and  perchance  the  best : 
They  felt,  and  loved,  and  died,  but  would  not 
lend 

Their  thoughts  to  meaner  beings;  they  compressed 
The  god  within  them,  and  rejoin*d  the  stars 
Unlaurell'd  upon  earth,  but  far  more  blest 

Than  those  who  are  degraded  by  the  jars 
Of  passion,  and  their  frailties  link'd  to  fame, 
Conquerors  of  high  renown,  but  full  of  scars. 

Many  are  poets  but  without  the  name,  10 

For  what  is  poesy  but  to  create 
From  overfeeling  good  or  ill ;  and  aim 

At  an  external  life  beyond  our  fate, 
And  be  the  new  Prometheus  of  new  men, 
Bestowing  fire  from  heaven,  and  then,  too  late, 

Finding  the  pleasure  given  repaid  with  pain, 
And  vultures  to  the  heart  ol  the  bestower, 
4 


38  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  Casto  4. 

Who,  having  lavish'd  his  high  gift  in  vain, 
Lies  chain'd  to  his  lone  rock  by  the  sea-shore  ? 

So  be  it:  we  can  bear. — But  thus  all  they,      20 

Whose  intellect  is  an  overmastering  power 
Which  still  recoils  from  its  encumbering  clay 

Or  lightens  it  to  spirit,  whatsoe'er 

The  form  which  their  creations  may  essay, 
Are  bards ;  the  kindled  marble's  bust  may  wear 

More  poesy  upon  its  speaking  brow 

Than  aught  less  than  the  Homeric  page  may 
bear ; 
One  noble  stroke  with  a  whole  life  may  glow, 

Or  deify  the  canvas  till  it  shine 

With  beauty  so  surpassing  all  below,  SO 

That  they  who  kneel  to  idols  so  divine 

Break  no  commandment,  for  high  heaven  is  there 

Transfused,  transfigu rated  :  and  the  line 
Of  poesy,  which  peoples  but  the  air 

With  thought  and  beings  of  our  thought  reflected, 

Can  do  no  more  :  then  let  the  artist  share 
The  palm,  he  shares  the  peril,  and  dejected 

Faints  o'er  the  labour  unapproved — Alas! 

Despair  and  Genius  are  too  oft  connected. 
Within  the  ages  which  before  me  pass  40 

Art  shall  resume  and  equal  even  the  sway 

Which  with  Apelles  and  old  Phidias 
She  held  in  Hellas'  unforgotten  day. 


Canto  4.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  39 

Ye  shall  be  taught  by  Ruin  to  revive 

The  Grecian  forms  at  least  from  their  decay, 

And  Roman  souls  at  last  again  shall  live 
In  Roman  works  wrought  by  Italian  hands, 
And  temples,  loftier  than  the  old  temples,  give 

New  wonders  to  the  world;  and  while  still  stands 
The  austere  Pantheon,  into  heaven  shall  soar  50 
A  dome,  (12)  its  image,  while  the  base  expands 

Into  a  fane  surpassing  all  before, 

Such  as  all  flesh  shall  flock  to  kneel  in:  ne'er 
Such  sight  hath  been  unfolded  by  a  door 

As  this,  to  which  all  nations  shall  repair 

And  lay  their  sins  at  this  huge  gate  of  heaven. 
And  the  bold  Architect  unto  whose  care 

The  daring  charge  to  raise  it  shall  be  given, 
Whom  all  arts  shall  acknowledge  as  their  lord, 
"Whether  into  the  marble  chaos  driven  60 

His  chisel  bid  the  Hebrew,  (13)  at  whose  word 
Israel  left  Egypt,  stop  the  waves  in  stone, 
Or  hues  of  hell  be  by  his  pencil  pour'd 

Over  the  damn'd  before  the  Judgment  throne,  (14) 
Such  as  I  saw  them,  such  as  all  shall  see, 
Or  fanes  be  built  of  grandeur  yet  unknown, 

The  stream  of  his  great  thoughts  shall  spring  from 
me,  (15) 
The  Ghibelline,  who  traversed  the  three  realms 
Which  form  the  empire  of  eternity. 


49  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  Cakto  4. 

Amidst  the  clash  of  swords,  and  clang  of  helms, 
The  age  which  I  anticipate,  no  less  71 

Shall  be  the  Age  of  Beauty,  and  while  whelms 

Calamity  the  nations  with  distress, 
The  genius  of  my  country  shall  arise, 
A  Cedar  towering  o'er  the  Wilderness, 

Lovely  in  all  its  branches  to  all  eyes, 
Fragrant  as  fair,  and  recognized  afar, 
Wafting  its  native  incense  through  the  skies. 

Sovereigns  shall  pause  amidst  their  sport  of  war 
Wean'd  for  an  hour  from  blood,  to  turn  an< 

gaze 
On  canvas  or  on  stone  ;  and  they  who  mar 

AH  beauty  upon  earth,  compell'd  to  praise, 
Shall  feel  the  power  of  that  which  they  destroy? 
And  Art's  mistaken  gratitude  shall  raise 

To  tyrants  who  but  take  her  for  a  toy 
Emblems  and  monuments,  and  prostitute 
Her  charms  to  pontiffs  proud,  (16)  who  but  em- 
ploy 

The  man  of  genius  as  the  meanest  brute 
To  bear  a  burthen,  and  to  serve  a  need, 
To  sell  his  labours,  and  his  soul  to  boot: 

Who  toils  for  nations  may  be  poor  indeed 

But  free;  who  sweats  for  monarchs  is  no  more 

Than  the  gilt  chamberlain,  who,  clothed  am 

fce'd, 


Canto  4.  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE.  41 

Stands  sleek  and  slavish,  bowing  at  his  door. 
Oh,  Power  that  rulest  and  inspirest !  how 
Is  it  that  they  on  earth,  whose  earthly  power 

Is  likest  thine  in  heaven  in  outward  show, 
Least  like  to  thee  in  attributes  divine, 
Tread  on  the  universal  necks  that  bow, 

And  then  assure  us  that  their  rights  are  thine  ?  100 
And  how  is  it  that  they,  the  sons  of  fame, 
"Whose  inspiration  seems  to  them  to  shine 

From  high,  they  whom  the  nations  oftest  name, 
Must  pass  their  days  in  penury  and  pain, 
Or  step  to  grandeur  through  the  paths  of  shame, 

And  wear  a  deeper  brand,  and  gaudier  chain? 
Or  if  their  destiny  be  born  aloof 
From  lowliness,  or  tempted  thence  in  vain, 

In  their  own  souls  sustain  a  harder  proof, 

The  inner  war  of  passions  deep  and  fierce  ?  1 10 
Florence !  when  thy  harsh  sentence  razed  my 
roof, 
'  I  loved  thee ;  but  the  vengeance  of  my  verse, 
The  hate  of  injuries  which  every  year 
Makes  greater,  and  accumulates  my  curse, 

Shall  live,  outliving  all  thou  holdest  dear, 

Thy  pride,  thy  wealth,  thy  freedom,  and  even 

that, 

The  most  infernal  of  all  evils  here, 

The  sway  of  petty  tyrants  in  a  state; 
4* 


42  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  Canto  4. 

For  such  sway  is  not  limited  to  kings, 

And  demagogues  yield  to  them  but  in  date    120 

As  swept  off  sooner;  in  all  deadly  things 

Which  make  men  hate  themselves,  and  one  an- 
other, 
In  discord,  cowardice,  cruelty,  all  that  springs 

From  Death  the  Sin-born's  incest  with  his  mother, 
In  rank  oppression  in  its  rudest  shape, 
The  faction  Chief  is  but  the  Sultan's  brother*, 

And  the  worst  despot's  far  less  human  ape  : 
Florence !  when  this  lone  spirit,  which  so  long 
Yearn'd,  as  the  captive  toiling  at  escape, 

To  fly  back  to  thee  in  despite  of  wrong,  15( 

An  exile,  saddest  of  all  prisoners, 
Who  has  the  whole  world  for  a  dungeon  strong, 

Seas,  mountains,  and  the  horizon's  verge  for  bars, 
Which  shut  him  from  the  sole  small  spot  of  earth 
Where — whatsoe'er  his  fate — -he  still  were  hers, 

His  country's,  and  might  die  where  he  had  birth — 
Florence !  when  this  lone  spirit  shall  return 
To  kindred  spirits,  thou  wilt  feel  my  worth, 

And  seek  to  honour  with  an  empty  urn 
The  ashes  thou  shalt  ne'er  obtain — Alas !      140 
"  What  have  I  done  to  the.e,  my  people  ?"  (17) 
Stern 

Are  all  thy  dealings,  but  in  this  they  pass 
The  limits  of  man's  common  malice,  for 


Ca*to4.  PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  -4S 

All  that  a  citizen  could  be  I  was ; 
Raised  by  thy  will,  all  thine  in  peace  or  war, 

And  for  this  thou  hast  warr'd  with  me. — 'Tis 
done: 

I  may  not  overleap  the  eternal  bar 
Built  up  between  us,  and  will  die  alone, 

Beholding,  with  the  dark  eye  of  a  seer, 

The  evil  days  to  gifted  souls  foreshown,        15Q 
Foretelling  them  to  those  who  will  not  hear, 

As  in  the  old  time,  till  the  hour  be  come 

When  Truth  shall  strike  their  eyes  through  many 
a  tear, 
And  make  them  own  the  Prophet  in  his  tomb. 


NOT^S 


PROPHECY  OF  DANTE. 


Note  1,  page  11,  line  11. 
Midst  whom  my  own  bright  Beatrice  bles&'d. 
The  reader  is  requested  to  adopt  the  Italian  pronuncia- 
tion of  Beatrice,  sounding  all  the  syllables. 
.  Note  2,  page  12,  line  9. 
My  Paradise  had  still  been  incomplete. 

"Che  sol  per  le  beile  op  re 

«  Che  fanno  in  Cielo  il  sole  e  1'  altre  stelle 

"  Dentro  di  lui  si  crede  il  Paradiso, 

"  Cosi  se  guardi  fiso 

"  Pensar  ben  dei  ch'  ogni  terren'  piacere" 
Canzone,  in  which  Dante  describes  the  person  of  Beatrice* 
Strophe  third. 

Note  3,  page  13,  line  15. 
I -would  have  had  my  Florence  great  and  free. 

"  V  Esilio  che  m'  e  dato  onor  mi  tegno. 

***** 

"  Cader  tra'  buoni  e  pur  di  lode  degno." 

Sonnet  of  Dante, 
in  which  he  represents  Right,  Generosity,  and  Temper- 
ance, as  banished  from  among  men,  and  seeking  refuge 
from  Love,  who  inhabits  his  bosom. 

Note  4,  page  14,  line  4. 
The  dust  she  dooms  to  scatter. 
"  Ut  si  quis  predictorum  ullo  tempore  in  fortiam  dicti 
communis  pervenerit,  talis  perveniens  igne  comburatnr,  mc 
yuod  moriatur." 


46  NOTES  TO  THE 

Second  sentence  of  Florence  against  Dante,  and  the  four- 
teen accused  with  him — The  Latin  is  worthy  of  the  sen- 
tence. 

.     Note  5,  page  IT,  last  line. 

Where  yet  my  boys  are,  and  that  fatal  she. 

This  lady,  whose  name  was  Gemma,  sprung  from  one  of 
the  most  powerful  Guelf  families,  named  Donati.  Corso 
Donati  was  the  principal  adversary  of  he  Ghibellines.  She 
is  described  as  being  "  Jidmodum  morosa,  ut  de  Xantippe 
Socratis  philosophi  conjuge  scriptum  esse  legimus,"  according 
to  GiannozzoManetti.  Bui  Lionardo  Areiino  is  scandalized 
with  Boccace,  in  his  life  of  Dante,  for  saying  that  literary 
men  should  not  marry.  "  Qui  il  Boccaccio'non  ha  pazienza, 
e  dice,  le  mogli  esser  contrarie  angli  sludj  ;  e  non  si  ricor- 
da  che  Socrate  il  piu  nobile  filosofo  che  mai  fusse  ebbe 
moglie,  e  figliuoli  e  uffici  della  Repubblica  mella  sua  Cit- 
ta;  e  Aristotele  che,  &c.  &c.  ebbe  due  mogli  in  varj  tempi, 
ed  ebbe  figliuoli,  e  ricchezze  assai.— E  Marco  Tullio— e 
Catone — e  Varrone,  e  Seneca — ebbero  moglie,"  &c.  &c.  It 
is  odd  that  honest  Leonardo's  examples,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Seneca,  and,  for  any  thing  1  know,  of  Aristotle,  are 
not  the  most  felicitous.  Tully's  Tcentia,  and  Socrates' 
Xantippe,  by  no  means  contributed  to  their  husbands'  hap- 
piness, whatever  they  might  do  to  their  philosophy — Cato 
gave  away  his  wife — of  Varro's  we  know  nothing— and  of 
Seneca's,  only  that  she  was  disposed  to  die  with  him,  but 
recovered,  and  lived  several  years  afterwards.  But,  says 
Lionardo,  "  L'  uomo  e  animate  civile,  secondo  piace  a  tutti 
i  filosofi."  And  thence  concludes  that  the  grfearest  proof 
of  the  animal's  civism  is  "la  prima  congiunzione,  dalla 
quale  multiplicata  nasce  la  Citia." 

Note  6,  page  22,  last  line. 
Nine  moons  shall  rise  o'er  scenes  like  this  and  set. 
See  "Sacco  di  Roma,"  generally  atlnbuied  *o  Guicciar- 
dini.     There  is  another  wriuen  by  a  Jacopo  Buonaparte, 
©entiluomo  Samminiatese  che  vi  si  trovo  presente. 


PROPHECY  OF  DANTE.  47 

Note  7,  page  29,  line  S. 

Conquerors  on  foreign  shores,  and  the  far  wave. 

Alexander  of  Parma,  Spinola,  Pescara,  Eugene  of  Savoy, 
Montecucco. 

Note  8,  page  29,  line  6. 
Discoverers  of  new  worlds,  which  take  their  name. 
Columbus,  Americus  Vespusius,  Sebastian  Cabot. 
Note  9,  page  30,  line  15. 
He  who  once  enters  in  a  tyrant's  hall,  &c< 
A  verse  from  the  Greek  tragedians,  with  which  Pompey 
took  leave  of  Cornelia  on  entering  the  boat  in  which  he 
was  slain. 

Note  10    page  30,  line  18. 

And  the  first  day  which  sees  the  chain  enthral,  &c. 

The  verse  and  sentiment  are  taken  from  Homer. 

Note  11,  page  31,  line  9. 

And  he,  their  prince,  shall  rank  among  my  peers, 

Petrarch. 

Note  12,  page  39,  line  8. 
A  dome,  its  image. 
The  cupola  of  St.  Peter's, 

Note  13,  page  39,  line  18. 
His  chisel  bid  the  Hebrew. 
The  statue  of  Moses  on  the  monument  of  Julius  IJ. 
SONETTO. 
Di  Giovanni  Battista  Zappi. 
Chi  e  costui,  che  in  dura  pietra  scolto, 
Siede  gigante;  e  le  piu  illustre,  e  conte 
Prove  dell'  arte  avvanza,  e  ha  vive,  e 
Le  labbia  si,  che  le  parole  s 
Quest'  £  Mose ;  ben  me'l  dice 


48   NOTES  TO  THE  PROPHECY  OP  DANTE. 

Onor  del  mento,  e'  1  doppio  raggio in  fronte, 

Quest'  e  Mose,  quando  scendea  del  monte, 

E  gran  parte  del  Nume  avea  nel  volto. 
Tal  era  allor,  che  le  sonanti,  e  vaste 

Acque  ei  sospese  a  se  d'  intorno,  e  tale. 

Quando  il  mar  chiuse,  e  ne  fe  tomba  altrui. 
E  voi  sue  turbe  un  rio  vitello  alzate  ? 

Alzata  aveste  imago  a  questa  eguale  ! 

Ch'  era  men  fallo  1'  adorar  costui. 

Note  14,  page  39,  line  21. 
Over  the  damn'd  before  the  Judgment  throne. 
The  Last  Judgment  in  the  Sistine  chapel. 
Note  15,  page  39,  line  24. 
The  stream  of  Ms  great  thoughts  shall  spring  from  me. 
I  have  read  somewhere  (if  1  do  not  err,  for  I  ^not  re- 
collect where)  that  Dante  was  so  great  a  fav  ounteofM- 
rhll ^Aneiolo's    that  he  had  designed  the  whole  of  the  Di- 
tt  Commedia;  but  that  the  vofume  containing  these  stu- 
dies  was  lost  by  sea. 

Note  16,  page  40,  line  18. 
Her  charms  to  pontiffs  proud,  -who  but  employ,  &c. 
See  the  treatment  of  Michel  Angiolo  by  Julius  II.,  and 
his  neglect  by  Leo  X. 

Note  17,  page  42,  line  23. 

«  What  have  I  done  to  thee,  my  people  ?' 

«  E  scrisse  Piu  volte  non  solamente  a  P"*^Sg*g 

del  reesrimento,  ma  ancora  al  popolo,  e  intra  1  aitre  un 

E^stoff Ssai  lunga  che  comincia:-'  Papule  nu,  amd  feci 

T '?? "  Vita  di  Dante  scrim  da  Lionardo  Aretino; 


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